


the roles we play

by agentx13



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, sharon carter month
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:35:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28072563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentx13/pseuds/agentx13
Summary: Steve Rogers is suffering from a bad breakup with one of Tinseltown's darling daughters, but his agent, Natasha, has a plan to rehabilitate his mopey, brooding image - set him up with another of her clients, an up-and-coming actress named Sharon Carter.Who thinks he can't act, by the way.
Relationships: Sharon Carter/Steve Rogers
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25
Collections: Sharon Carter Month





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Jackie for reading over this and offering some insights into LA native life!

This whole thing is ridiculous. She wouldn’t even be here if her manager hadn’t talked her into it. Speaking of which, how _had_ Natasha talked her into it? Sharon remembers Natasha making good points at the time, but now that Sharon is sitting here in the coffee shop, at an out-of-the-way table by the windows, she can’t think of any reason she should be doing this. None that are worthwhile, anyway. She should leave, shouldn’t she? Is it a breach of contract if she leaves? Nat implied there was a contract. But Nat implies a lot of things. That doesn’t make any of them true.

And then, just like that, it’s too late to flee.

He comes in, wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap, and she raises a hand to greet him, putting on an automatic smile.

He looks at her, then looks away with a frown. Okay. That hadn’t gone well.

She watches him, fiddling with her mocha as it cools and he inches his way through the line. He’s attractive, she supposes, but she’s not really into him. Not like that.

_It’ll look good for the papers. Think of Selena and Pete._

_Who?_

_Jesus, Sharon. Just trust me._

He gets his coffee and slides into the seat across from her. “Sorry I’m late.”

She shrugs. “I was early. I’m sorry you got roped into this.”

“I wouldn’t say I got roped into it.” After a moment, he takes off his sunglasses, and people at a table nearby start to titter. As they should. His face is plastered on the billboard across the street, promoting his latest high-octane thriller. “I was happy to do it. Nat thinks it could benefit both of us.”

He sounds far too polite.

“Still,” she says. “It’s very kind of you. I know I’m just starting out, and Natasha thinks this will help, but if I could have left it up to hard work, I would have.”

He grins, but there’s something humorless about it. “It’s Hollywood, Sharon. Hard work is nothing compared to who you know.”

Which brings up one of the things that had been bothering her. “And who do I know that would get you to agree to this? I’m nobody.”

He takes a long sip of his coffee. Turns it into a gulp. Then another. If it burns, he doesn’t show it. And the whole time, his blue eyes are watching her. “You know Tony Stark, don’t you? That’s how you got your start.”

She grins. Ridiculousness upon ridiculousness. “I got my start by auditioning for an agent. And then getting television work. And then doing indie movies. I’m hoping to do more popular fare like you, though. So I can get better things to choose from.”

“No, really. Stark helped you.”

“If he did,” she says slowly, sipping her lukewarm mocha, “I’d punch him in the nose.”

He stares at her. “You know he’s the biggest producer in Hollywood.”

“He knows I want to make it on my own. Without accepting help from relatives.”

He studies her. “You really think you haven’t gotten where you are without his help? Just him knowing you would be enough for some people to hire you.”

She glowers at him. “I’m starting to think the rumors about your upward career trajectory are true.”

He grins, a charming curve of his lips like a bowstring. The grin of a guaranteed box office draw. “And what are the rumors?”

Her smile matches his as she leans in, up to the unspoken challenge. “That you’re a talentless hack who has nothing but soon-to-fade good looks and politeness that masks a lack of charm.”

They stay like that, frozen in time just as they’re frozen in the supposedly-sly photos people are taking. Like the photos, neither of them pull away, neither of them breathe.

At length, he drops his gaze to his cup, looking almost shy. She can spot the tell, though. Nothing below his shoulders moves. “If we’re going to do this, I’d hope you’d be nicer to me.”

She musters her sweetest smile. “If we’re going to do this, I’d hope you wouldn’t treat me like a whore to get closer to my cousin, given that doing so means you’ll never meet him through me.”

He sips his coffee. It’s almost gone, and she wonders if he’s drunk that much on purpose. If the scalded tongue was just a trade-off in getting done with this charade sooner. His eyes dance, but he looks past her. “You’re too green to know how these things work, aren’t you. It shows in your performances.”

“Oh? Have you seen them?”

“I did my research.”

She’s really starting to hate him. “So did I.” She grins. “I hope you don’t think you can act better than I can. Because at least people can tell I’ve had training.”

He huffs a laugh, the smile not reaching his eyes, and leans in, matching her body language. To people around them, it might even seem flirtatious. “I took a class in high school.”

She laughs at that. It’s more than a huff, and it reaches her eyes. “Who teaches you now?”

His grin fades. “I work hard.”

“Without guidance, working hard will only take you so far.” She smiles at him, guileless and pure. “And treating the people around you as a means to an end isn’t going to help.”

“And what are you doing here, if not using me?”

“Taking pity on another of my manager’s clients.”

She can see the light in his eyes go out momentarily. Good. She gets to her feet and goes to kiss his cheek, mostly for show. She can hear the cell phone cameras clicking away. Don’t they know the silent feature exists? “I’ll tell Nat I’ve done my duty. Hopefully she won’t need me to do something like this again.”

She heads out. She doesn’t want to look back, but his digs at her acting make her want to prove herself, and she does. He’s looking after her, and she grins at him before disappearing down the street.

* * *

“Sharon says you were an asshole.”

“A lot of people say I’m an asshole,” Steve defends himself. He realizes too late that it isn’t a good defense. “I expect the best from the people around me.”

“And to introduce you to their producer family members,” Nat fills in for him.

“Of _course_ it’s going to sound bad when you say it like that.”

Nat, behind her large desk, her red curls immaculate, her slimming black dress spotless, studies him like he’s a bug on a pin. “People love the narrative that you’re a heartbroken stud. But no one will want to hire you if everyone thinks you’re a lovelorn idiot willing to sabotage any chance at happiness he has.”

Steve’s jaw clenches. “It wasn’t a great breakup,” he admits. “But people who know me-”

“Know that you’ve been moping around. And you’re an asshole when you mope, Steve. Sharon saw that, and she doesn’t even know you like other people. So you’re going to have to prove to people that you’re still capable of being happy. I’ve already gotten more interest in hiring you in the past week than I got the month before that. How do you feel about appearing in _Jurassic World?_ Or one of those _Marvel_ movies? They usually go for people named Chris, so you’d be an outlier, but I think we could make it work.”

Steve makes a face. “She said I need acting lessons.”

“Who?”

“Sharon.”

Natasha laughs. She laughs harder when she realizes Steve isn’t laughing. “Want me to get you a teacher?”

“You think I need a teacher, too?”

Natasha shrugs. “It can’t hurt, can it? Daniel Radcliffe still takes acting classes, and he might have more money than Rowling at this point.”

Steve leans back in his chair. “Does _she_ still take acting classes?”

“Rowling?”

“Sharon.”

“Yeah. And has personal trainers. I’m trying to get her a role in the same franchises I’m trying to get you into, actually.”

“Because she wants more of the generic movie money.”

Natasha shrugs. “She wants the name recognition. I told her to go for it. More name recognition means better roles.”

“Means better pay.”

“I make my living doing this, too, and I only get a cut. I want her to get bigger, too.”

He makes a face. “And there’s no one else that we can ask?”

Natasha shakes her head. “Jodi’s keeping it on the right side of legal, but she’s still making people choose sides. Playing the woe-is-me card. You need to look like you’ve moved on. Either this will blow over or she’ll reveal herself for who she is. Either way, you win. So long as you look like you’ve moved on.” She enunciates each of the words in the final sentence as if they’re knives she’s currently stabbing his brain with.

“Even if I haven’t?”

“ _Especially_ if you haven’t.” She looks at him levelly. “There’s a party tomorrow night at Chrissy and John’s. It’s a stepping stone to getting into Heidi’s Halloween party. Sharon will be there. I want you to go, too. You know John. All you have to do is be seen being friendly with Sharon in front of the Hollywood types. Can you do that?”

“Won’t people know this is a front? That it’s fake?”

“This doesn’t work if everyone knows it’s fake. All anyone needs to know is the truth – your manager set you up for coffee, thinking you two might get along. Whatever you do after that is up to each of you. Your excellent manager is patiently staying out of it.”

Steve’s lips quirk. “I just want to work, Nat.”

“And you can’t do that if you don’t play the game. You’re not just acting on screen, Steve. You know that.”

“Does _she_ know that?”

“She won’t sell you out. Go to the party. Be nice. If nothing else, you might have a friend.”

Steve thinks about her comments about his acting. He doubts “friends” is what Sharon has in mind.

* * *

The party is crowded despite the massive size of the house and grounds. At least Steve’s friends Bucky and Sam are there, providing cover for him until he can spot Sharon. Sam is an actor, too, and Bucky is a model who is trying to get into acting; he hasn’t broken free of Ben Stiller films but still has hope.

“I’ve got an audition for a TV show coming up,” Bucky announces. “I don’t want to jinx it. But I figure it’s safe to tell you two. You’re both enough of a curse you’d beat out any jinx.”

“What’s it for?” Sam asks.

“Some show called _Revenge._ I’d be the childhood best friend that the heroine is secretly still in love with.”

“Playing the bad guy is more fun. Trust me.”

Steve listens with half an ear, keeping an eye out for Sharon. The three of them have fled to the gardens, away from the actors and agents, all constantly networking. He tries not to think of how he’s doing that, too. Using people to further his own ends. Using other people to pretend he’s something he’s not.

It doesn’t feel right, and he hates it. Hates the part of himself that agreed to it.

Sam’s face is suddenly inches from his. “Helloooooooooo.”

Steve jumps with a shout, shoving Sam away from him.

Sam, untroubled, turns to Bucky. “Yep. He’s still on Earth. Don’t know where his brain was, but his body’s still here.”

Steve wipes his face with a hand. “Nat set me up with Sharon Carter.”

“She’s up for the lead on _Revenge,_ ” Bucky announces. “Word is, she’ll get it. Can you introduce me?”

Sam looks at Bucky with what passes for patience. “Steve’s having a romantic crisis again. About someone _else._ ”

Steve never thought he’d find hell in a garden. But he supposes, given how the story started in the Garden of Eden, he should have. “It’s not like that.”

“Manufactured,” Sam says, watching Steve in understanding. “Fake it til you make it.”

Steve glares at him. “She implied I can’t act.”

Bucky grins. “Now you _have_ to introduce me to her.”

“She accused me of using her to get closer to her cousin.” And she’s not wrong, he thinks with a moderate degree of horror. That was why he’d agreed to meet with her. He’d used the charade as an access point and then insulted her. Crap. No wonder she hated him.

He straightens as he sees her tumble out of a doorway, arm-in-arm with Carol Danvers. The two had played sisters on some show years before and remained friends despite Carol vaulting into film and never looking back. They’re laughing about something, and then Carol looks toward the food table and both of them immediately make a beeline for it.

Sam turns to watch. “To show up at parties like this, you’d think she’d have a bigger name.”

Steve shrugs. “I don’t know her that well. I should go say hi, though.” He gets up and brushes himself off, only to find Sam and Bucky shadowing him as he climbs the steps to the patio. He stops and turns.

“Safety in numbers,” Bucky says quickly, obviously angling for an introduction.

“Not that we’ll stop you if you fall and terribly injure yourself,” Sam adds. “We’re only mortal.”

By the time he finds Sharon and Carol, they’ve joined Chrissy and are raving enthusiastically about the mini-burgers and mini-cheeseburgers. All three seem relaxed and sincere, and Sharon soon points to someone trying to get Chrissy’s attention and pulls Carol away before they can overstay their welcome. They walk away, and he makes his way through the crowd to intercept them.

“Sharon!”

She stops and looks around, sees him, and there’s a moment of irritation before she looks at Carol and says something. He’s too far away to hear, but he can’t imagine it’s anything good.

He finally manages to reach her and stands for a second, gathering his wits. “I need to apologize.”

Her expression changes; obviously, she hadn’t expected that. He wants to boast but suspects that would ruin his progress. “Oh?”

“I shouldn’t have used you to get closer to your cousin. Or implied you didn’t know how things work.”

“Wait,” Sam says. “What did you do?”

“Hi,” Bucky joins in, shoving his hand toward Carol. “Bucky Barnes.”

Carol lifts an eyebrow. “Bucky,” she greets him slowly, giving his hand an even slower shake. She doesn’t offer her own name.

Steve tries to ignore his friends. “I’m sorry,” he finishes.

Sharon looks doubtful. “I guess I should apologize for implying you’re a shit actor with a fast-approaching expiration date.”

Sam guffaws.

Carol stares at Sharon. “Wait. What?”

Again, Steve tries to ignore everyone else around them. “Can I make it up to you? Dinner? Lunch? Someplace private. An actual conversation?”

She eyes him suspiciously. “How do I know you’re not just changing tactics to meet Tony?”

“You don’t,” he admits. “But I’ll try to be less of an ass.”

“Now _that_ I’d be interested to see.” They make their arrangements, and Sharon drags Carol away.

“You didn’t introduce me,” Bucky reminds Steve, and Steve and Sam turn to give him disdainful looks.

* * *

They have brunch at a place called Redbird near City Hall. It’s in a renovated church. It’s upscale. And it’s mostly swarmed with business types during the day, which means paparazzi should be few and far between. He takes care to arrive early, with ten minutes to spare, and he also takes care to pull her chair out for her when she arrives. Like him, she seems to be putting some effort in. She’s dressed nicely, almost as if it’s a date. Which it isn’t. Even though it could be. But isn’t. Because it isn’t.

“What happened?” she asks curiously as he takes his seat again. “Near-death experience? Did Nat attack you? Have you been replaced by an alien?”

He grabs his menu. He already knows what he wants – he’s been going over the menu for almost ten minutes – but it’s good to do something with his hands. “I realized I was an ass. I shouldn’t have talked to you that way.”

“Even if it was true?”

_Trap!_ his brain screams at him. He looks at her, words forming a traffic jam on his tongue.

She grins as she takes in his panic. “Sorry. I shouldn’t poke fun. And I shouldn’t have talked to you that way, either. Especially for a first meeting.”

He grimaces. “I was the one who started it.”

Her eyes narrow. “If you keep apologizing, we won’t be able to have a real conversation.”

“Right. Sorry.” She tilts her head to the side, and he ducks his head. Instead of apologizing again, he presses his hand to his mouth.

Her eyes start to dance. The waiter comes, and they both order. After, she leans toward him. “Nat says she’s trying to get you a role with Marvel?”

“Yeah. Captain America. I don’t know. She says not being a Chris is a handicap.”

“I’d say you’ve got a good chance. You’ve got the build for it.”

He shrugs. “I have a personal trainer. She told me she’s trying to get you into the same franchises. Nat, I mean. Not my personal trainer.”

She nods. “Agent 13. I’m trying to brush up on the comics, just in case. And there’s a role in the _Jurassic World_ movie, but she doesn’t have a name yet. Which. Typical.”

“I still can’t believe they filmed one of the movies without having a complete script first.”

“I _know._ I hate when that happens! At least with TV shows, you know they’ll have the episode done by the time you film, even if they change things up while you film. And retcons happen, of course. But to not have a script at all?”

He wants to tell her about Bucky, but he doesn’t want to seem like he’s angling for anything, so he keeps the focus on work, on places they’ve been. He’s not sure it’s going well. He’s sure he’s lost the spark he had with Jodi, when it had all seemed effortless and easy.

But when they’re getting ready to part, she says, “Carol invited me to the premiere of her new film. She gave me a plus one. If you’re interested.”

“Sure,” he says, mostly because he’s taken by surprise. It’s only later he realizes he didn’t even ask when it was.

It’s only a little after that that he sees pictures of the two of them on a gossip site. It’s blurry and weak, but clearly them. And Steve… doesn’t mind. He’d felt like he could have done better, sure, but overall, he’d enjoyed his time with her. He hopes she sees that, because it definitely looks that way in the pictures, and Steve hadn’t been acting.

And a little after the photos are published that Jodi calls.

He jumps for the phone. Juggles it in his hands. Drops it, picks it up again. Almost presses the button to answer. And then he stops. He doesn’t know why.

But he slowly sets the phone aside.

* * *

The premiere is Carol’s directorial debut. There was never any doubt Sharon would find a way to be there, but what had been in doubt was her plus-one. She hadn’t anticipated having one, and now that she does, everything is awkward and discombobulating. Still, she would never miss this, so Sharon goes, Steve on her arm, or grasping his hand as they’re moved from one place to another. She doesn’t always look at him. She feels weird when she looks at him. Almost like she’s got those butterflies she’s heard so much about. Not that she would ever tell him that. She still wonders if he’s only being friendly so he can take advantage of her.

“You look great,” he tells her at one point, and she grins and feels obliged to return the compliment. It’s true, though; he knows how to wear a tux.

“It’s a thing,” she adds after a beat. “My stylist finds kind of up-and-coming designers? She likes kind of weird things. And I like wearing different things. Like a different role each time, you know? Pushing yourself outside your comfort zone a little?” She shakes her head. “Dumb. I know.”

“Not dumb,” he says with a small smile. There are the butterflies again. “Brave. I should start thinking like that.”

She looks at his tux and bites her lip. “At least navy,” she suggests. “Before you go too crazy.”

“Velvet with gold lining.”

She smiles widely. “I think you could pull it off.”

He grins back, and then, just as the butterflies start up again, they’re ushered to their seats.

After the premiere, she mingles with people after. For the most part, Steve is there with her, keeping a respectful distance but very clearly there _with_ her.

Some people ask her opinions on the movie, and she tells them, honestly, that she thinks people will soon see Carol as the directorial powerhouse she is. They ask if she and Steve are dating, and her brain goes on the fritz. They’re not dating. They’re… they’re not even fake-dating now.

She looks at him as she figures out how to answer, then at the person asking. “I think we’re just friends,” she says, thinking she’s an idiot for saying “I think” in front of everything. “I don’t know. We’ve hung out a couple times. Maybe good friends? Who knows. We’ll see.” The answer is a mess. She’s a mess.

The focus is supposed to be on Carol, she tells herself. Not her own love life, or lack thereof. Quickly, maybe a little too quickly, she makes her excuses and slips away, snagging Steve’s hand on the way and pulling him with her.

That night, there’s a story about her botched answer, and there’s more speculation that the two of them are dating. Evidently, trying to come up with a non-answer _was_ an answer.

Natasha texts her a thumbs up emoji.

* * *

Sharon doesn’t know what the hell she’s doing anymore. She likes hanging out with Steve, and she hates that she likes it. She doesn’t know what he’s up to. She doesn’t know which Steve is the real one, the asshole one or the nice one.

He wants to direct one day. She’s content to continue acting, just wants more options for what roles she can play, but they still spend hours going over scripts. The gossip magazines only say they’re spending hours at each other’s places, and Sharon wants to screech that there’s no sex going on. It’s work, she wants to say. They go over scripts and audition tapes and performances they like, dissect them, look at what’s well done and what could be improved.

And in between, they start going out to eat more. It’s a weird thing. It isn’t planned. It just happens. They spend hours at each other’s place and they don’t always feel like cooking and they want a change of scenery.

She grimaces at the cameras one night as they head to a nearby diner. She knows now that the photos will be on gossip sites within minutes, and there will be more cameras within half an hour. “How did you get used to this?”

He glances behind him. “I wouldn’t say I ever got used to it. It’s just part of what we have to put up with, you know?” He pauses. “If you want to get into film, there might be more of this. And speculation about your love life. And people not wanting to date you because of it.”

“I’d date you.”

Sharon blinks. She hadn’t said that. The thought might have been there, forming its way out of the ether, but she hadn’t said it. It wasn’t even her voice, just her errant thought.

There’s a form at her side, a solid mass that’s woman-shaped and smells like lilies. She blinks again, and the form takes shape. Long, glossy brown curls, professionally-tanned skin, perfect makeup. A dress with an oversized sweater and winter boots. She’s beautiful. She’s gorgeous. She’s real. She’s perfect.

_Jodi Starr._

Sharon looks at her, dumbstruck.

“I dated you before,” Jodi says. “And didn’t know how good I had it.” Her attention is completely, totally on Steve. Sharon doesn’t exist. Seeing the way Steve looks at Jodi, Sharon realizes with a sinking feeling she doesn’t exist to either of them. “I came to grovel. Ask you to take me back.” She slides onto the bench beside Steve, the bench that’s only meant for one person, which means she’s incredibly close to him, and his eyes when he looks at her…

Sharon’s appetite is suddenly gone. She’s not sure she’ll be able to stomach food ever again, to be honest.

She jumps to her feet. “Well. Looks like it’s time for me to go. Steve. I’ll- I-” He looks at her, as dumbfounded as she’d been, as if words are only a dream. “Um. Right.”

She hides her face from the photographers as she hurries down the street, half-hoping he’ll run out after.

But of course, he doesn’t. Why would he?

If it was all an act, if they were only friends, why the hell does this hurt so much?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was only ever supposed to be a ruse. But could it have been something more? Sharon and Steve know less about it than the gossip rags, tbh.

Steve stares after Sharon, stupefied and hating himself for not being able to speak, to put words together.

“Mind if I have one of your fries?” Without waiting, Jodi takes one and dips it in ketchup before tucking it between her lips. There’s something indecent about it, and it’s too obvious to be unintentional.

He stares at her. “What are you doing here?” Her lily-of-the-valley perfume clashes with the diner food, creating a putrid cloud.

“Just what I said. I hate how we ended. I thought maybe we could work things out.”

“You dumped me, Jodi. You said you could do better, that I was yesterday’s news, and then you dumped me.” He could still remember the hurt. The pain. The way he’d scoured his soul for weeks to figure out if she was right. The fear he’d felt that she might be right after all.

He turns to the window, looking for Sharon. She’s long-gone by now, though, and he wants to call her back. He wants to go over scripts with her, not cast them aside for another publicity appearance or photoshoot.

She takes advantage of his turned face to lean over and kiss him. He’s so used to her, to her lips, that he responds automatically. “Give me another chance?”

Sharon had given _him_ another chance, he thinks. He’d apologized, and she’d-

Jodi hasn’t apologized.

“Did you mean the things you said?” he asks, taking a fry for himself. He doesn’t let it linger on his lips as she had.

“No,” she says, and her voice is odd. Not contrite. There’s something else there. “I’m sorry I said those things. Let me make it up to you?”

There it is, the apology. That’s an apology, right?

Something about this isn’t right, but he can’t put his finger on what. He’s had daydreams about this, where she comes to him and begs him to take her back. He can’t make her beg, though, and he won’t.

He conjures up a smile. “Happily,” he says.

In his daydreams, though, he hadn’t considered Sharon.

* * *

Natasha whistles, and Sharon grunts. “It’s not that bad,” Natasha says. “At least you two don’t have to date anymore. Your stock has gone up, his reputation is restored. Honestly, I wish I’d thought of this myself.” She scrolls through the alerts on her screen. “At least now, you two don’t have to pretend to like each other.”

Sharon pulls her toast onto her plate and starts buttering it. Natasha had stopped by her house too early in the morning for God himself, and Sharon needs coffee if she’s going to confront anyone or anything. “We weren’t pretending.”

Natasha takes the cup of coffee Sharon had poured for herself and takes a sip. “Do tell.”

Sharon glowers at her and pours another cup for herself. “He apologized for his behavior. We started hanging out. As friends.”

“Oh, my God,” Natasha muses. “Carol’s premiere. You meant when you said you were friends.”

“Of _course_ I did,” Sharon says. “Why-” She frowns at Natasha. “Why wouldn’t I meant it?”

Natasha shrugs. “I thought you’d learned to play the game.”

Sharon scowls. “I don’t think I’ll ever play the game.”

“Then you’d better get successful enough you don’t need to.” She pulls a packet of papers from her purse. “That Marvel audition. I got you in.”

Sharon looks at the pages, thinking of all the scripts she’d gone over with Steve, the character deconstructions, the parsed plot lines. She should be going over this with him, finding ways to improve her performance.

He’s probably busy with Jodi.

“At least something good is happening,” Sharon says, taking the script with numb fingers. She looks at it without seeing it. What she needs, she reasons, is to get Steve out of her head. He shouldn’t even be in there anyway. She’ll have to get him out.

Easier said than done.

* * *

Jodi has a full schedule, and Steve is taken aback to find how quickly he’s taking part in it. He’s ever the gentleman about it, of course, carrying her bags when they go shopping, holding her purse while she poses for photos, taking her to her favorite restaurants and getting her flowers.

After five days, though, he needs a break. He barely had time for phone calls with Natasha, who’d sent over the pages for his Marvel audition. He makes plans with Sam and Bucky to watch the game and is on his way over to Sam’s house when Jodi calls.

“So I was thinking sushi tonight. There’s a new place in WeHo.”

“I can’t.” He keeps his tone apologetic. “I’m watching the game with Sam and Bucky.” There’s silence on the other end. “You can come, if you want. I’m sure Sam won’t mind.”

“I don’t want to watch a _game._ ” Her tone turns sweet. “I want to spend time with you. I didn’t like being apart from you, and now I can’t get my fill. I need more of you.”

He frowns at the stretch of the 101 in front of him. “Babe. It would take me an hour just to get back to you. Can we get sushi some other time?”

“But I’ve been craving sushi and really wanted to eat some tonight! With you!”

His frown deepens as he tries to work out the logistics. He _could_ cancel on Sam and Bucky. Just like he used to do when he’d dated Jodi before. They’d rag on him, but he could do it. But he doesn’t _want_ to. He hasn’t had time to hang out with them since he got back with Joki.

Unbidden, he thinks back to his time with Sharon. It feels long ago, now, and too brief, a hodgepodge of memories shoved close together. She’d never asked him to rearrange his schedule, he thinks. They’d just made plans for when they were both available. If he’d said he couldn’t make it and suggested another time, that was fine.

“I can’t tonight,” he says carefully. “Let’s do it tomorrow.”

“Steve. Don’t do this. People are expecting to see me at the restaurant!”

“Can’t you go with a friend?”

“I thought _you_ were my friend.”

He brakes to avoid hitting a car. He doesn’t know what to say to that. He feels guilty. And he thinks that’s the point. “I can’t make it tonight,” he says again. “So you can either go with someone else, go on your own, or wait until tomorrow.”

“God. You are _such_ an ass!” she snaps.

He doesn’t have to think of a response to that; she’s already hung up on him.

* * *

“It’s about time you grew a pair,” Sam commends him when he tells them about the phone call.

“You’re a completely different person with her,” Bucky agrees.

“You don’t appreciate the finer things in life,” Sam elaborates.

“By which he means us.”

The two of them fistbump each other.

“What am I gonna do if she’s pissed?” Steve says. And when had the two of them become such good friends? “I don’t want to get dumped again.”

“What about dumping her yourself?” Sam asks.

Steve frowns at the television. He seems to be frowning a lot, lately. And not in a good, thoughtful way. “I can’t do that to her.”

They both look at him.

“I can’t! She’d be so upset! I couldn’t do that to her.”

They look at each other.

Sam, the more emotionally mature one, gives a faint nod. “She could do that to you, though.”

“But she regrets it. That’s why we’re together now. I should be flattered she wants to spend time with me. I _am_ flattered. I’m glad.” He’s glad, right?

“Clearly,” Sam says, voice dry.

“She got over you _fast_ last time,” Bucky offers. “Wasn’t she out shopping with some other guy, like, the day after?”

Steve makes a face at the television. “Who wouldn’t want to go shopping with her?”

Sam and Bucky raise their hands.

He glares at them both. “I hate you both. Turn it up so I don’t have to hear you.”

* * *

“Slow down!” Carol complains. “We’re not all machines.”

Sharon pauses and looks back at her as Carol pushes herself up the steep trail in Griffith Park. “You’re usually the one pushing _me._ ”

“I _am_ a powerhouse,” Carol agrees, lips twitching. “But I’m usually caffeinated. And not trying to run away from my own damn thoughts.”

“I’m not-” Carol gives her a look that shuts her mouth _fast._ “Okay. I might hate Jodi Starr.”

“No one plays the game so well as she,” Carol says in agreement. “She’s a PR dream – which makes her a PR nightmare for everyone else.”

Sharon scowls. “I haven’t been able to think of anything else. And I have work to do. This is supposed to clear my head.” She grins at Carol. “Direct me. Use your magic director powers to get her out of my head.”

Carol watches her knowingly. “It’s not her that’s in your head.”

Sharon looks out over the city. “Is this what instant regret feels like?” she asks ruefully.

“How many times have you thought about him since-”

“Time to run!”

“Sharon, don’t make me run. Sharon? Sharon! Fuck you, Sharon!” And then Carol is chasing after her.

Sharon’s going to pay for this later. In more ways than one. But for now, she’s avoiding the subject a little longer. That’s good enough for her.

* * *

“How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?” Steve demands. The window partition is up, so the limo driver can’t hear them, but Jodi’s stylist and makeup artist are both sitting across from them and pretending they’re elsewhere.

“Until I believe you,” Jodi snaps. “I looked like an idiot, sitting around my house ready to go out and nowhere to go.”

“I told you I couldn’t make it.”

“But you could have!” She curls a strand of hair at her cheek. “You just decided your friends were more important than I am.”

He bit his cheek before he could say that they were. Were they? They weren’t supposed to be, were they? “You look wonderful,” he tells her.

She grins at him. “More classic than that other girl, right? She wore such weird things. I’d _never_ hire her stylist. I _hate_ experimental styles.”

Steve blinks in confusion. “Other girl?”

Her grin widens. “You’ve already forgotten her? Good.” She leans against him and kisses him, and Steve responds automatically. Jodi has always been a fantastic kisser. “She’s not even that pretty.” She turns to her makeup artist and points to her lips. “Fix me.”

The limo stops as they hit the line for arrivals, and he stares at her as her team makes last-second fixes. He realizes she means Sharon. She’s jealous of Sharon.

She’d only texted him because she didn’t want to lose him to Sharon. Just like she didn’t want to lose him to his friends.

He looks down at his tux. He doesn’t even remember what this event is, but he wonders what her reaction would be if he’d worn velvet with gold lining.

The door opens, and he gets out, his movements automatic as he helps her out. She beams at her audience, smiles and waves to the cameras, and he watches her, deconstructs her performance the way he and Sharon had watched other performances and taken them apart, looked at the body language and how genuine any of it was.

He follows her down the carpet, holding her bag, stepping forward when she wants to take a picture with him. For the most part, he’s content to let her answer the questions. He has other things to think about.

But then someone shoves a microphone in his face. He vaguely recognizes the woman holding it, but he wouldn’t know she worked for ET if the microphone hadn’t been clearly labeled. “Steve! How do you feel about being back together with Jodi? Are you two happy?”

His immediate thought is to say yes, of course, but the word freezes on his tongue. He thinks back on the past week and swallows. “That’s a good question,” he says, hoping to buy time, and Jodi’s smile falters as her eyes turn predatory.

“Are _you_ happy?” the reporter presses.

Jodi snags his arm and beams at him. “Of course we are! Aren’t we, babe?”

He looks away. “You know,” he says, speaking into the space between Jodi and the microphone. “I was head over heels for her for what felt like the longest time.” Jodi melts against him. “She was everything. And when she dumped me, it devastated me. It really did. When she said she wanted to get back together, I thought it was everything I’d ever wanted.” He licks his lips. The ‘but’ hangs in the air, and Jodi’s fingers are digging into his arm. “But since we got back together, it feels like I’m being used for a prop. And it turns out she only wanted me back because she was worried about me hanging out with Sharon Carter.” He turns to Jodi. “I thought I needed a night away from you, time to spend with my friends and relax without having to focus everything on you for an hour. But I need more than a night.” He frowns, something unfurling in his chest. “I don’t love you anymore, Jodi. I’m not sure I even like you much anymore.” He shrugs. “I thought I was lucky to know you until I met better people. Sorry.” He starts to pry her fingers off.

“You can’t do this!” She might mean for it to sound begging, but it comes out like a snap. She throws an uncertain grin at the camera. “That’s such a mean joke, babe!”

He gets his arm back and hands her the purse. “I’ve got to go.”

“No!” she shouts at him. In her rage, she forgets about the cameras and her adoring fans. “Steve! Steve, you shithole! You come back here!”

* * *

“Wait for it,” Carol says over the phone. “This is the best part.”

Sharon straightens, watching the clip on YouTube. “Did she just throw her purse at him?”

“Yep!” Carol listens to the beeps coming through Sharon’s end. “Find an uncensored clip. For the full Jodi Starr experience.”

“I should really feel bad about this,” Sharon says, her fingers adding “uncensored” to the search bar. “I can’t believe Jodi Starr was jealous of me.”

“It’s because you’re such a good runner,” Carol says dryly. “So what are you going to do?”

“Learn some new bad words, from the sound of it.”

“I meant about Steve.”

Sharon forgets to listen to all the curse words coming through her speakers. “Um. I don’t know?”

“How do you not know?” Carol demands.

“He didn’t say he likes me, Carol. Not that I thought he would.” It doesn’t sound convincing, even to her. Part of her is starting to resent how much she thinks about him. It would be easier if she still thought he’d been using her to get closer to Tony, but he hadn’t mentioned Tony since his apology. “The ball’s in his court.”

“Uh-huh.”

Sharon whistles, turning the focus back to the video. “I think Jodi just took a bat to her family-friendly image.”

“Stories are coming out on social media about how she treats people behind the scenes. Someone already put a document together with links.”

“I really shouldn’t read that,” Sharon muses, already googling it.

“Oh, I read it. It’s glorious. Celebrate over cheeseburgers?”

“Over burgers,” Sharon corrects. “No burger is good if you have to add cheese to make it taste good.”

“Argue at the restaurant?”

“Meet you there.”

* * *

Over the next several days, Steve almost calls or texts Sharon multiple times. Every time, he chickens out at the last second. What would he even say? “Want to hang out?” sounds lackluster at best. “I’d like to take you on a date,” sounds like a dick move, after he’d gone weeks without having talked to her at all.

But the longer he takes to say something, the more it’s like nothing sounds right.

He doesn’t know what to do, so he focuses on his work instead.

* * *

Sharon focuses on her work. It’s what she knows. It’s what she has power over. She auditions for Agent 13, for Emily Thorne. She gets callbacks for both. She recognizes Bucky, and he seems thrilled that she remembers him, but they separate before she can work up the guts to ask about Steve.

She hears that he got the Captain America role, and she briefly considers bailing out of the selection process. But then she thinks that she wants to see how far she can get, that bailing now might hurt her chances in the future.

She texts him her congratulations.

An animated ellipses appears on her screen. She stares at it, willing it to turn into a text, but when she looks again after she makes herself some dinner, it’s gone, as if it had never been there.

She really is an idiot.

* * *

The audition is in an office. It’s nothing fancy. Just a camera facing the wall, chairs pushed to the side. It’s a large office, but it’s still an office. Steve tries to make chitchat with the casting director, Sarah, as they wait for the next person to audition with him as Agent 13. He wonders if Sharon got as far as the chemistry test. He’s still been shying away from talking to her and kicking himself for it.

The door opens, and Sharon walks in, stopping short when she sees him. None of the actresses had been told they’d be reading with him today.

Quickly, she walks forward and offers her hand. Professional. Cool. He doesn’t know what else he was expecting. “Steve. Good to see you again. How’ve you been?”

“Good,” he says, looking into her eyes and wishing he knew how to say what he wanted.

She smiles, looks to Sarah. “Hi, Sarah. Good to see you, too.”

“And you. Let’s get started, shall we?”

The audition is murder. There are so many things he wishes he could say, and he thinks she feels the same, and all throughout, they have to say the words on a page she got less than an hour ago.

When it’s over, when Sarah calls cut, he’s still staring at her. “I have to apologize,” he says softly.

“You’re making it a habit,” she warns.

He swallows. “Can I make ‘making it up to you’ a habit, too?”

She crosses her arms and glances at Sarah. “I kind of want to hear the apology.”

“I’m an ass.”

Her eyes widen, and there’s a hint of a smile on her lips. “I saw the footage.”

Shit. “I’m more than an ass.” The corners of her lips are definitely twitching upwards. “I don’t know how to say everything,” he confesses. “I kept trying to call you, text you. Think of something for Natasha to tell you, and I couldn’t. But I’ve been thinking about you. I’d still be with Jodi if not for you.”

She frowns. “Not sure that’s a good thing,” she says slowly. “If I- I mean, I didn’t break you up, did I?”

He shakes his head quickly. “No. Not like that. She wanted me to be her perfect… prop. And you pushed me to be a better me. I couldn’t go back to being a prop after being more. I want to be more. I want to be a better me.”

Her frown is still there. Still intense. “I can’t make you better, Steve.”

“And yet you do. Just… promise to keep being you, okay? Calling me out. Pushing me by pushing yourself.” She doesn’t say anything, and he holds up the script. “It’ll only cost you a cup of coffee.”

Her lips twitch. “I’d like that. Coffee with a friend.”

He lowers the script. Slowly. He’s so focused on her that he’s entirely unaware of the script, of his hands. “Maybe more than a friend?”

Her lips pull into a grin, despite her efforts to keep it in check. It’s a genuine smile. It feels like a long time since he saw one of those, and he hopes he gets to see more of them. “I could go for that.”

* * *

Sharon gets the role. Evidently, her and Steve’s chemistry test had blown everyone else out of the water. Sarah tells her after that the video hadn’t stopped filming in case Sharon ever wants to look over the footage.

Steve wears velvet with gold threads to the premiere.

* * *

“You’ll like it, I promise. I even invited Sam and Bucky in case you want to duck out with them,” she tells him as they head up the driveway. Cars are bumper to bumper along one side, a small fleet of valets running back to the house.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I kind of wanted to stay in and watch that documentary on astronomy tonight.”

“Call it a short night?” she suggests. “An hour here, then home and documentary.”

He nods, looking at the house in interest. “Put in an appearance and go. I like that.”

“Our due diligence,” she agrees. She stops at the valet stand, and they each get out.

“What is this place anyway?” he asks, taking her hand as she rejoins him.

“Oh. Tony likes to throw par-”

“SHARON!” She’s enveloped in a hug by a dark-haired man with a goatee. “And this must be Steve.” Tony Stark straightens and gives Steve’s hand a firm shake. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Sharon tells me you have a script?”

“I- Yes, sir.” He looks at Sharon.

“She’s my fiercest gatekeeper. If she’s letting a script through, we should talk.” He starts dragging Steve away.

“Maybe two hours!” she calls after him with a smile.

He smiles back and watches as she joins Sam and Bucky. She and Bucky had both gotten their roles on Revenge, and Bucky had met his current girlfriend through the show. All in all, things were great.

An hour and a half later, after a series of threats about treating Sharon right from Tony before he finally asked about Steve’s script, Steve rejoins Sharon. He feels like he’s been sweating for the past hour.

She leans against him. “Ready for home?”

He grins at her. “It’s weird. A town about being seen as much as possible, and all I want is to be home alone with you.”

Her hand finds his. “Let’s go, then, Captain. We’ve got a sequel to read over and prepare for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I forget to add this again, you can help choose the prompts for next year's Sharon Carter Month [here](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1goHBjj2uGHsi5JVNTwyxcFecFHwsTkSPIbtbZKe7eQ0/edit)!


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